


Don't fret precious I'm here

by Katarik



Category: Kamen Rider Ghost
Genre: Dissociation, Episode Tag, Gen, Mind Control, Missing Scene, POV Third Person Limited, Present Tense, Unreliable Narrator, Wordcount: 100-1.000, alain this is not how you friend, gen like canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-29 00:08:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12618660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katarik/pseuds/Katarik
Summary: Episode 19.Pay no mind what other voices say.





	Don't fret precious I'm here

These hands are shaking. This heart is beating fast, and the pound of it makes Alain dizzy. He reaches out, and Specter is suddenly there, his shoulder steady. The sound of his breathing is loud. Alain forces these lungs to match it. He cannot stop seeing Kanon step in front of that eyesore, that canker, that *Tenkuuji Takeru*, and the rifle not faltering -- 

“I would never ask you to hurt Kanon,” abrupt. Beside him, Specter’s attention focuses, just as Alain had wished it to. “I would never wish her hurt. I… Kanon made no oaths. She cannot be a traitor, and I would not have to… Kanon will not be hurt. If she steps between you and Tenkuuji Takeru again, that order is paramount. Kanon is not to be injured. Do you understand?”

Slow dip of Specter’s head in a nod, and a release of tension in his strong shoulders. Alain smiles, hand lifting, cupping the curve of the masking helmet. He is seeking Specter’s eyes, but he can only see Necrom’s. No matter -- he is Specter, and now he has been reminded that Alain would never command him to hurt his dearest person. “My perfect friend,” he murmurs, scanning the mask, superimposing Specter’s features hidden underneath it. “No one can call you a traitor now, either. Not now that we are one.” He laughs, the muscles of this face tugging the smile wider. “I can’t believe you didn’t already know Kanon’s safety supersedes some other order. You are my friend -- I want to protect you from harm, discontent. I already know how important she is to you, Specter. You would not let me help you before. Now I can. I won’t *let* there be unhappiness for you now.”

Specter’s head turns, tilts, leaning into Alain’s hand, a wordless apology for not having let Alain be his friend before, with Kanon in the Eyecon. An apology Alain had not demanded, but oh, he had wanted, and he sighs for the pleasure of being given it, bends his head to rest his cheek on Specter’s armored shoulder. For a long moment, he is silent, until he lifts his head to look out over the sea and sky. He still does not know why this place is one of Specter’s favorites, but Kanon had told him that it was, so he wants Specter to be here, to enjoy it. Alain does not ask, not now. His thoughts are filled with Specter, with Kanon, with sheltering them both, as is his duty as a prince of the Ganma and as their friend. He steps away from Specter, bracing himself on the guardrail. “I have no way to be one with Kanon,” softly, into the breeze. “I cannot bring her into harmonious accord the way I did with you. I cannot be her perfect friend. But she is safer than you were, at least. And that creature seems to value her safety, I suppose.” The lips curl back, an unordered snarl Alain feels viscerally. This *body*. Why had Specter valued his so much? They are so distracting! Emotions that affect these organs, organs that control emotions he feels in his mind… 

Unbidden, he is remembering the spar he had wanted from Specter immediately after uniting them. Specter’s speed and strength, still, but there had been… it had been unsatisfying, and the weight of disappointment, anger, had been heavy in the belly, tight and knotted in the chest -- there had been no surprise. Specter has been a challenging sparring partner since the first, and he still is, but… but there had been… it had been different, when it should have been better. *Best*. They are one now, and everything between them is perfect, and yet...

He jumps under the weight of Specter’s arm suddenly around the shoulder, makes a startled sound Alain immediately hates both of them for. Specter tugs him in against his side anyway, an unanticipated touch, but… he has to admit, it is not… unpleasant.

They are one. Perfect friends. It is Alain’s duty and his pleasure to keep harmony, to guard Specter from unhappiness or dismay or pain or hurt. But Specter has always wanted to give that *back*. It had been one of the first arguments they had had. Now, of course, there are no arguments, they are in harmony, but… well. It would be beneath Alain to deny Specter a chance to give comfort, if he wishes to.

And Alain hadn’t known he wanted this, but tension is leaching out of this body, the unpleasant knotting in the chest and shoulders and nape ebbing. He shuts his eyes, and leans into Specter’s touch, relaxing against him as Specter’s encircling arm tightens around his ribs.

There is warmth.


End file.
